Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
He could already envision some big tattooed bastard with a pack of drooling Rottweilers waiting to bolt and rip a man to pieces. He tried fitting into a broken freezer, but then panicked about the possibility of being locked in it. So he ran farther until he spotted a rusted red truck with its hood open to reveal an empty cavity where an engine had once been.
Without thinking, Dane got to his knees and rolled between the old wooden boxes filling the space underneath. Dust rose, entering his nose and eyes, but he didn’t dare make a peep and just lay prone, eyes closed and face cradled in his hands while the whole junkyard echoed with noise.
It couldn’t all be people, but despite Dane’s attempts to calm down and ignore his fears, his imagination kept working at full speed, delivering images straight from gory horror movies.
He was too young to die.
He had a family he needed to see.
He hadn’t survived the violent beating to die so soon after.
Strong hands grabbed his ankles and pulled, dragging him over the dirt as he clutched at the dry ground. With nothing more to lose, Dane screamed out all his fear and kicked back when the unknown man dragged him halfway into the sunlight. He managed to wrap his fingers over a pipe in the chassis, but the rusted metal crushed in his hand, leaving him with nothing to hold on to.
Tears of pure terror streamed down his face as the person behind him tugged without mercy until Dane was exposed and vulnerable to whatever violence the stranger wanted to unleash on him. Rob’s steel-capped boots had been agony until they’d knocked him out, and he sobbed in fear as all will to fight left his body, along with a part of his soul.
But the man didn’t punch him. He didn’t shout, or kick, or demand answers. Just lay on top of Dane, pinning his wrists to the ground. When teeth scraped his sweaty nape and a rock hard erection pressed against his ass, the reality of his position dispersed the cloud of panic.
It was Jag.
And Jag wasn’t out to murder him in some gruesome way.
He was warm, fit, and fucking crazy about Dane.
And out to fuck him senseless.
Heat flooded Dane’s flesh when teeth nipped the back of his neck so hard he feared they might break skin, but adrenaline was already kicking in, and instead of pain, he felt a stab of arousal.
“What—”
“I’ve caught you,” Jag growled, pushing his thigh between Dane’s legs and rocking his hips as if he couldn’t wait to take his reward. “And now you’re all mine.” He lapped at Dane’s sensitive skin, from his nape to the ear, and bit down on the vulnerable flesh before, pulling on it like a dog playing with his prey. “Can you feel it? Are you ready to take me? Is my bitch in heat?” When he made a hard thrust against Dane’s ass, Dane knew he should protest this lewdness, but his body responded by yielding to the closeness.
Seconds ago, he’d feared dogs tearing at his flesh, but Jag wouldn’t let anyone harm him, and when Dane’s balls throbbed in excitement, he lost his will to fight. He might not have been in heat before, but the weight on top of him, the sharp warmth of Jag’s mouth, and the strength of his hands were quickly turning Dane into a burning mess. His mind fogged up until he could barely remember how he’d ended up in the dirt when the same could have happened somewhere way more comfort—
He screamed out when Jag shoved down his pants, and the hot erection pressed into his crack.
“You wanted me to hunt. I hunted. Now stay down,” Jag growled, and his hot breath scorched the back of Dane’s already boiling head. He let go of Dane’s wrists, as if holding him in place was no longer a necessity, and slid his hands under Dane’s T-shirt to his hairy stomach. His nails dug in just enough to make a point without causing pain. “I wish I could breed you and put a pup in your belly at least once a year,” he fantasized, rocking his cock in the crevice between Dane’s buttocks.
It sounded wrong. So, so wrong. And yet Dane’s ears throbbed with heat when he imagined being kept by this wild man and serving him in any way he craved.
To be Jag’s and make his happiness Dane’s only goal in life.
“No… I can’t—” he protested, but his voice died when Jag leaned back and squeezed both his buttocks, pulling them apart as if they were a ripe peach for him to consume.
"True. You can't. But I’ll still try," Jag rasped in a voice so thick with lust it was melting away all of Dane’s barriers.
They were one blink of an eye removed from penetration, and while Dane had endured a couple of rather dry, uncomfortable fucks, the little tube in his pants came to the forefront of his mind, and he frantically searched for it with a trembling hand. “Wait... just use this… okay?” he uttered, glancing over the shoulder and offering the cream to Jag, who stretched over him, ready to mount his bitch. He wasn’t even wearing a shirt, and his body glistened in the sun with a sheen of sweat over each vein and pronounced muscle.